His Other Half
by DaisyFlowers
Summary: George is heartbroken after Fred's death. So much, he decides to kill himself. But what makes him change his mind? The story is better than the summary. Please give it a go!


George had made up his mind. Yes, he was going to commit suicide. What happened, you ask? His twin, his brother, _his other half_ died due to just a bloody explosion.

To be frank, George never had even thought that either one of the two would die before they were at least a hundred… Sure, they had had their fair share of pranks, some dangerous, some not quite. But then, what was magic for? Thinking about it, George thought that the idea of Fredrick Gideon Weasley, _his_ Fred, who had gone through so much, who had experienced so much, dying just due to a stupid explosion and a stupid crumbling wall was simply ridiculous.

But he had seen Fred's lifeless body with his own two eyes. He had held his dead twin tightly to his chest, his loud, heartbroken sobs resounding throughout the Great Hall. His heart had broken- shattered like a glass ball into a million pieces, and there was no way it was ever going to be the same ever again. Half of him was dead.

Where was he going to find someone who would finish his sentences, plot pranks with him, tease Ron and Ginny mercilessly and run Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes? Who would be there with him to share all his ups and downs throughout life?

"You are one selfish prat," he had told Fred's dead eyes. "How could you leave me here, all alone?"

It wasn't only George's Heart which was broken, though he certainly felt that way. Mom, Dad, Ginny, Bill- everybody in the family and close friends. Surprisingly-even Percy. George really didn't really expect him to be that way, considering that he had come around scarcely twenty-four hours ago.

So here George was, standing on the sixth floor facing the Lake, about to jump when he heard the distant, but familiar voices of Ron, Harry and Hermione coming from somewhere on his right.

His heart ached. It ached to lose Fred, yes, and it also ached to hear Ron's voice again. Ron, who he and Fred teased mercilessly. Ron, who went through so much- McGonagall's chess board, the Chamber of Secrets, the Battle of the prophecies, and the Battle of Hogwarts- and still stayed strong, at least on the outside. Ron, his little brother who he loved as dearly as life itself.

With a pang he realized the whole magnitude of what he was just about to do. Suicide was meant for cowards- he was in Gryffindor for a reason. George Weasley was a lot of things, but a coward wasn't one of them. Suicide suddenly seemed like the most stupid thing to do next to jumping off a cliff to save your life. What position was he just about to leave his near and dear ones in?

Mum had nearly freaked out when she thought that something had happened to Fred and George almost right after she had told them off for not getting enough O.W.L.s… What would be her reaction when she came to know George had also gone along with Fred? What was he going to do? Right after Remus, Tonks and Fred died, he was about to commit suicide? What was he thinking?!

He thought about what Fred would have said if he were here. Something along the lines of ' _Finally cracked your head haven't ya, buddy? Who'll put a smile on all the gloomy faces now? Don't you jump off Georgie- everyone needs you.'_

Shaking his head at his foolishness, George leaned against the wall, panting. He distinctly heard Harry yapping about some Resurrection Stone, how it had the ability to get someone back from the dead, how- wait, what? To get someone back from the dead? Yes! George strained his ears to listen to Harry.

"And there she was, my mum," George heard him say,"she was just… breathtaking. Her eyes were such a beautiful shade of green- they sparkled like jades. She had a kind and beautiful face and red hair just like your mom, Ron, though they were a bit longer. She looked so intelligent, I'm sure she was every bit of a genius you are, Hermione, probably even more."

"My dad- he could totally pass as my twin. Sans the eyes, that is. He had Hazel eyes and a crooked grin. That, and lopsided glasses. You could see he was as good as a professional prankster. You could tell, you know. He had a mischievous glint in his eyes like he had a hundred different prank ideas running through his mind at that time. He was looking so, so, so proud. He had innumerable laugh lines around his face… seemed like he wasn't serious most of the time-"

Ron sniggered. George was himself suppressing a laugh.

"Wha- oh, oh! All these 'serious' puns!" said Harry.

"Then there was Sirius looking so proud, it was almost like he never went..."

Harry's voice trailed off, as a stream of what George supposed were silent tears finally started to flow.

. . .

George waited for Harry to finish crying, but it was hard to predict when he would stop.

Ron and Hermione didn't talk, letting Harry have a moment.

The bloke had been through so much- an abusive home, a few dozen trolls and others magical beings, a couple of battles, and had even escaped death itself. So many of his loved ones were deceased. It was a miracle how he stayed so strong on the outside.

But George had another purpose, that made him stay and not show his face to his mother: wanting to know where the stone lay, the stone that was the only hope for him to see his beloved brother once again.

There was a sniff, and murmurs coming from the Golden Trio reached George's ears. He waited for Harry to tell his friends where he had left the stone, but to no avail.

He assumed that Ron wanted to know about the same thing; as he asked Harry cautiously, as if he were afraid that Harry would pounce, shout at him (that boy _had_ huge lungs, after all) or do something stupid, "Where did you leave it, mate?"

Quite surprisingly, Harry answered, that too in a calm voice. "I left it in the forest."

"Where?"

Before Harry could answer, Hermione intervened. "Look Ron, I know it's difficult for you to deal with Fred's-" Hermione's voice cracked "death, but think about- it is difficult for all of us. Lupin and Tonks are dead too." George thought that Hermione was on the verge of tears. No, she probably _was_ crying. "But don't you think that if we bring back Fred from the dead for say, five minutes, you would want him back more. Fred would have wanted us to go on with our lives. I'm sure that's what he wanted."

"And how would you know that, Hermione?" Ron said, coldly. He raised his voice. "I am his brother, don't you act as if you knew him very well, because you never will, alright? You just want to stick your nose where it doesn't belong."

"Ron!" came Harry's hoarse voice to say that he had gone too far, but the damage was already done.

"No, Harry," said Hermione quietly. Even with the Extendable Ears George had to strain to listen. "He's right. Fred and I weren't very close."

There was the sound of the shuffling of feet and retreating footsteps: Hermione had walked away.

There was a pause in which no one spoke; but Ron's deep, echoing sobs filled the air. Ron couldn't have been more wrong. Didn't he know the number of hours Hermione spent with him and Fred in their shop's basement, joking and helping them make new stuff? Didn't he know about the countless jokes the three of them had cracked? Hermione had it just as difficult as Ron.

"Don't I always mess things up?" came Ron's voice.

"No, you just-" A pause in which Harry struggled to find the right words. "You just get a bit insecure, I guess."

No one said anything for a while.

"I just want to see him one last time," said Ron.

Harry must have been struggling to decide but he told Ron where the stone was anyway. It was near Hagrid's hut.

George ran, ran like hell towards the castle's doors and out in the open. Leaving no time to enjoy the cool breeze, which also seemed to be rejoicing Potter's triumph over Voldemort, good over bad, George made his way towards Hagrid's hut, and thus, the great search began.

One hour, two hours, three hours went by, but George didn't stop, nor did he lose any hope. He searched and searched until morning changed into afternoon, and afternoon into evening.

Just when George concluded that there wasn't any point, his hand got cut over something smooth and sharp and shiny. Picking up the violator with his uninjured hand, George turned it over, examining it.

And then there was Fred, right in front of him, slightly pale, a bit ghost-like, nevertheless, grinning like a maniac to be able to see George again.


End file.
